


TimeCanary Eleven Word Prompt Series

by Shadowmightwrite17



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, RipFic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowmightwrite17/pseuds/Shadowmightwrite17
Summary: A story of how Rip Hunter and Sara Lance finally admitted their feelings to each other. Eleven chapters. Each chapter is inspired by one word of my choosing. Written for TimeCanaryWeek.





	1. Caraphernelia

**Author's Note:**

> Caraphernelia: (n) a broken-heart disease that occurs whenever someone leaves you, but leaves all their things behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caraphernelia: (n) a broken-heart disease that occurs whenever someone leaves you, but leaves all their things behind

Sara stared at the desk, and for a moment she could see him standing over it, staring at loose papers and folders and maps, all scattered across the wood in a heaping mess. She could hear his muttering, hear him talking to himself as he mentally plotted their next movements. She watched as he spun rapidly, the tails of his coat spinning and walked over to pour himself a drink. It was late at night, everyone was asleep, and of course he would be in his office at this hour, having a drink and thinking so he could avoid sleeping. It was just so very like him.

With a sigh, Sara took one hesitant step towards the empty office.

It was late and most souls aboard the ship were sleeping, but she just couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was a trait of being captain of the Waverider, something Rip had unknowingly passed down to her when he disappeared, and again when he left. It was that last part that troubled her. He left. Left the Waverider. Left his home. Left the team. Left her. He left under the guise that they didn’t need him anymore, that they were perfectly capable without him.

That wasn’t true though.

They did need him.

And it wasn’t until she walked into his office after he left that she really saw it. Because everything was still there. That room that felt like the very center of Rip’s heart was still there, filled with the things Rip had collected on his journeys. And walking in there felt like the very first time, the time she’d thought she’d lost him for good. When she’d thought he’d died.

Goddammit, she could still see that hologram of him saying goodbye when she closed her eyes. Could still feel the very moment her heart dropped when she heard that he had died.

So she stood on the steps of his office, gazing in like someone staring through a glass display at a museum. Staring at the things that could be observed but never touched and it felt just like then.

He wasn’t dead. She could remind herself of that all she liked. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t gone forever, he just left.

But goddamn she wished he hadn’t. She wished he was by her side. Wished he was sitting in that chair, sipping a glass of scotch and reading a book and pretending he didn’t need sleep because that was so very Rip Hunter. And she would stroll in and make him get some sleep. Of course he’d complain about it, argue he didn’t need sleep. Eventually he’d give in and go to bed, but maybe first she’d sit down and have a drink with him and they’d talk. Just talk. Talk about anything. Talk about the mission. Talk about their families, who they lost. Talk about their adventures before they met. Talk about being captains. And eventually they’d go to bed. And everything would just be normal. They’d be side by side, travelling through time, fixing time, even if they messed it up sometimes.

But they couldn’t do that if he went running off.

She knew why he left. He needed to figure himself out. After being resurrected and trying to fight the bloodlust, Sara had left. She couldn’t begrudge him for needing what she needed. It didn’t stop her from wanting him back.

And God did she want him back.

Because staring at the artifacts of all that he left behind was tearing holes in her chest that she couldn’t fill. Not with him gone.


	2. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solitude: (n) a state of seclusion or isolation

It was something about the dark blue sky on the rolling grass hills that got him every time. It soothed him in a way. Gave him that sense of quiet. Calmed the ever-there static of rambling thoughts that kept him up at night. It calmed down Phil’s nervousness, soothed his Doomworld self’s constant state of uncomfortable nihilism, and chased away his memories of what he did while under the Legion’s control. It was watching that dark sky eventually fill with the golden light of the sunrise that put him in the mental place to go back home and finally sleep. He spent a lot of nights out here because of it. Walked up this hill to this same spot every night, wrapped himself up in a blanket because his coat wasn’t always enough to keep him warm in this weather, and he watched the sky. It was something about being alone and letting his mind just be quiet that was just so calming.  
Being alone. Much as he loved the team, sometimes he just needed to be alone for a bit.

Some nights he found himself longing to share this with a blonde with hair as golden as the sunrise. To see the sunrise light up her freckles and watch her smile spread as she took in its beauty. Sometimes.

Some nights he found his mind to straying to less pleasant places.

Wandering back to that fear. That fear that had plagued him every second he was on the Waverider since the team rescued him, the fear that somehow that thing that the Legion created would somehow slip back and hurt his team again.

That fear existed because it was very clear that parts of Phil and his Doomworld self still existed, traits had been passed down to him now.  
Rip still had the odd cravings for Phil’s favorite munchie foods from time to time. He also had a new discomfort being around spiders that he hadn’t had before. They never phased him before. Hell, when Jonas asked for a tarantula as a pet, Rip had been completely in favor but Miranda had said no. Phil had a serious fear of spiders though, so perhaps the fear remained but was diluted thanks to Rip’s own life experiences. Rip also had a new appreciated for music genres he’d hated before thanks to Phil.

Doomworld brought a new talent for confections, which he would never admit to his team. It was a secret he was taking to his grave and he had sworn Gideon to secrecy too. Sara would have to torture the information out of him. It also brought on a new state of nihilism he wasn’t fond of. He didn’t like this new mindset and he couldn’t seem to shake the constant feeling of meaninglessness to the world. It also brought a more pressing interest in rum he was trying to get better at controlling.

The version of himself that the Legion built hadn’t made any appearances somehow, nothing beyond nightmares and traumatic memories of course. He still had flashbacks to his hands around Sara’s throat, flashbacks that sent him into panic attacks sometimes. He’d have to stop and remind himself that Sara was alive and well, and then remind himself that he wasn’t that thing anymore.

That thing had been cold, calculating, and emotionless. If anything, Rip had been the exact opposite. He’d been feeling his own emotions much more strongly, and empathizing with others had become easier somehow. It was as if the version of himself the Legion had created had created something new and opposite entirely.

He was getting a sense of himself now though. Getting reacquainted with himself. He knew his quirks and what to expect now on his bad days. The quiet seclusion in this lonely little corner of the world had helped immensely in that.

Southland, New Zealand.

Who knew the cure to an ailed mind was there.

Sara and the other Legends would probably be pissed at him though, leaving so he could go and lick his wounds alone. It helped though, and that’s all that mattered in the end.

The golden light of the sun began to spread through the sky, chasing away the dark blues. The cool breeze washed over Rip’s face as he curled himself up in the thick, heavy blanket. This morning there were no clouds, nothing for the sun to blaze orange and pink as it normally did. Nothing to light up and change and set afire. It was pure gold and blue. Something calm and unending. It was perfect.

Again, he wished he could share this moment with Sara. He wished he could watch her eyes brighten with the color of the sky they so resembled. Wished he could hear her laugh as she teased him about something. He could picture it, picture the way her head tilted back and it broke free and she smiled widely and looked back at him, but there was such a huge difference between picturing it and experiencing it.

The sun rose past the horizon, and Rip could no longer look in that direction without burning his eyes, so he got up. His hip ached slightly from sitting in one place so rigidly for so long, and his right leg was asleep, but he hobbled down the hill anyway. He walked down to the farm at the base of the hill.

The sheep were out in the field, grazing on grass. Rip stopped and leaned on the wooden fence, watching them for a moment. One sheep with a particularly shaggy coat bawed and walked over to Rip. Rip let out a slight smile. He was getting a little well known with this farm, because he smuggled treats to the sheep while the old lady was sleeping.

Reaching into the small canvas bag Rip had brought with him, he pulled out corn husks and fed some to the sheep. Soon the other four ran over and demanded some. Rip’s smile widened and he gave some to the others. He always brought enough to share now.

“You look like an idiot.” Mick commented from behind, blunt as a sledgehammer, like always. “What? Did you retire to become some kind of sheep farmer now?”

Rip jumped out of surprise, turning to him with wide eyes.

“He did have a kind of goofy smile on his face,” Jax agreed, appearing from behind a shed.

Rip looked around warily, hand held up.

Ray appeared. “Aw, Rip. Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to become a sheep herder? I love sheep!” Ray asked, leaning over the fence as he tried to get a closer look at the sheep.

The sheep stepped further away from Ray, taking their corn husks and leaving. Rip sighed, casting a forlorn look at the sheep before glaring at his teammates.

“Why are you here?” Rip questioned.

“Because we need your help,” Ray replied easily.

“We’re chasing after some time pirates and they’ve been kicking out asses. They did mention you though, so we figured maybe you knew them and  
knew how to beat them,” Jax explained.

Rip sighed. So much for a vacation to allow him to get his head on straight. “Well then, I suppose I can’t say no to that,” He agreed.

“Great!” Ray exclaimed, excited. 

“Blondie’s gonna be happy,” Mick commented lowly, too low for any of them to hear. He turned and started walking down the hill.

“So, what are you going to do about your sheep farm? Do you need to hire some kind of baby sitter or something?” Ray asked.

Rip sighed, wondering if he should even bother answering that question. Instead he reached into his bag and pulled out the last of the corn husks. 

Leaning over the fence, he held them out as an offering and waiting for one of the sheep to take interest. The first one did. The first one was always the most curious of the five. It approached and took the corn husk, bawing before walking away. Ray cooed over it, waving and wanting to pet it. Rip just shook his head in dismay and suggested they stop by the tiny studio he dared to call a flat and collect his things.

He didn’t realize how much he missed the Waverider until he was flying the Jumpship back and landing it inside the Waverider.

And he most certainly didn’t realize how much he missed Sara until she launched into him with a hug.

Because one moment he was aching to see her, and the next he was burning to hold her and never let go. Good God did he miss her and he swore he was never letting her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day two of TimeCanaryWeek on tumblr. I still recommend you check it out if you can. A lot of new content for TimeCanary has gone up in the last two days alone, including fanfiction, and it is all wonderful.  
> Comments are loved and forever remembered, and you get virtual cookies. Thank you to my tumblr followers who made the trek from tumblr to here to read, love you all.


	3. Limerence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Limerence: (n) the state of being infatuated with another person

He wasn’t entirely sure when it started. Well, he had an idea of when it started. The first logical idea of when it all started back up again…  
* * *

The moment the jump ship doors opened and he saw her standing there, and the strap of his pack slipped out of his fingers and hit the floor. She was standing there, every bit as much of the Captain as she was when he left and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Standing there, stunningly beautiful, and before he had a moment to breathe she crashed into him with a hug. He stood there for a second, stunned, because Sara Lance was hugging him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held on tightly because this was Sara Lance and she was hugging him and he didn’t want to let her go.

She pulled away, that beaming, bright smile on her face. “Welcome back,” She greeted. There was a hint of something mischievous in her eyes that Rip couldn’t quite place. “Captain.”

He gave her a funny look. “Oh, I’m not the Captain,” He muttered awkwardly, suddenly taken aback.

“No, you most definitely aren’t,” She agreed, this coy smirk on her face.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do now, because was he or wasn’t he the Captain?

“You are the Co-captain of this time-ship,” Sara clarified. She held her hand out, “Ready to get started, Co-captain?”

It took a second for it to hit him, but now Rip understood. This was Sara’s way of making sure he couldn’t leave again. A Captain couldn’t just leave their ship. Now he was duty and honor bound to stay on the Waverider.

And that’s…

Alright.

Fine actually.

He’s actually more than okay with that. More than okay with that. A hint of a smile began to spread across his lips and Rip Hunter nodded in agreement.

“Thank you Captain Lance,” Rip returned, shaking her hand. “Co-captain.”

He picked up his bag and followed her down the hall. She led him down the hall to the Captain’s quarters and gestured for him to walk in. He stared at her for a moment, stunned.

“Sorry, it’s just that after I left I assumed you would move in,” Rip mumbled, looking in with a nervous, apprehensive expression. “This is the Captain’s quarters, and you were, for nearly a year, this ship’s only Captain.”

Sara shrugged. “I got a little attached to my room,” She explained, “And it always felt wrong somehow to disturb your things, seeing as this is your home.”

Rip felt something warm creep in. This was, for all intents and purposes, his home now. In a sense, it had always been. Miranda and Jonas had always been his home, but so had the Waverider, and now the Waverider was his only home.

“Yes, it is,” Rip agreed.

“Well, go get settled, and meet me in the library. We have some time pirates to discuss.” Sara told him. “Co-captain.”

And like that, she wandered down the hall without another word.

* * *  
It just didn’t sink in right away what was happening. Those little moments crept up on him, took him by surprise…  
* * *

Rip walked down to the galley, running a hand across his exhausted face. He couldn’t sleep. Of course he couldn’t sleep. His sleep schedule was completely misaligned after his time in Southland, New Zealand. When everyone slept, he was awake. When everyone was awake, he was exhausted to the point of near collapse, but he was trying to get himself back onto everyone else’s sleep cycle. 

He walked into the galley and grabbed the kettle, putting on some tea.

“I take it you can’t sleep Captain,” Gideon guessed.

“No, of course not Gideon,” Rip mumbled.

He turned and grabbed a mug, it was dark blue with gold circles on it. “May I suggest some cake baking to relax you Captain?” Gideon suggested.  
Rip almost dropped his mug at the suggestion. “Gideon, we agreed we’d never speak of it again.” He grumbled, setting his mug down as he pointed a finger at the ceiling.

“Why not, I thought the cake you made was pretty tasty,” Sara spoke up.

Rip jumped, spinning to stare at her as she appeared from out of the shadows.

Bloody League of Assassins.

“How do you do that?” He questioned, heart hammering from the scare.

Sara smiled coyly. “Why didn’t you tell me you could bake?” She asked.

“Gideon?” Rip questioned, looking up at the nearest camera to question the A.I.

“Oh, she didn’t tell me anything. On our way back to World War I to stop the Legion from ever getting their hands on the spear in the first place, I ran to the kitchen to get some water and saw some cake, so I grabbed a bite, and I got to say, it was some of the best cake I’ve ever had. Bakery status. And when I asked Gideon about it after you left, she said you had sworn her to secrecy,” Sara explained, raising an eyebrow. “Come on Rip, why didn’t you tell me you could bake?”

Rip looked away, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. He rubbed his hand across his neck. “It wasn’t something I wanted the team to know,” He mumbled, doing everything he could to avoid looking her in the eye. “It was something I did in Doomworld to escape the reality that… that…”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she approached him. He still couldn’t look at her.

“Rip?” She whispered, concern lacing her voice. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder as she ducked her head to look him in the eye.

He turned to her, his moss green eyes tearing up. “I thought you were all dead Sara,” He whispered, something in his voice breaking. “I thought you were dead.”

Sara stepped back, understanding now.

Rip looked away. His lips wobbled for a moment as he tried to control his expression. “I thought I lost you all and I couldn’t handle it and I fell into this pit of pain and despair and I couldn’t handle it and I did anything I could to keep myself from completely sinking into it and the cakes were part of that distraction,” He admitted, his words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t want the team to know because I didn’t want them to know just how bad I got.”

Sara nodded, understanding now. Then the corner of her mouth tilted up. “We should have you bake again,” She decided.

He gave her an incredulous look, appalled by the idea, but before he could object she cut him off with: “We’ll give you a good reason to bake. You’re back now, you’re with the team, and we’re Co-captains, and we’re celebrating that. Besides, I always wanted to learn to bake and it’s something I never really got around to learning from my mom.”

Rip hesitated.

Then Sara nudged him, encouraging him, and really, who could say no to Sara Lance?

“Fine,” He agreed, sounding as though she had dragged him into it. She had, really.

He found he couldn’t complain though. Especially when she watched him with such eager eyes, a happy smile on her face. They laughed, joked. Then he made the mistake of teasing her about her frosting skills and she retaliated by reaching into the flour bag and dousing his bead with flour and he was never getting that out any time soon but the laugh she let out at the sight wasn’t so bad.  
They made tea to go with their cake. He insisted on tea and he insisted on what flavor they had with tea. So they ate their cake with earl grey and joked that this was the reason Rip was never going to sleep like a normal person but that was okay. Insomniac adventures.  
And Rip was so happy that he finally had someone to share these insomniac adventures with.

* * *  
Sometimes it was just her that took him by surprise…  
* * *

He walked into his office, on a mission. That mission was to plot a plan for how to deal with these time pirates. He had Gideon’s files all programed into the tablet in his office, now he just had to go over it and organize everything. He’d come up with a plan, review it with his Co-captain and they would execute it.

That was the plan, until he walked in and found Sara Lance lounging sideways on his leather chair, her legs hanging off the arm of it. She was sipping what he guessed to be whiskey out of a glass, staring down at his tablet, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully.

“Sorry, did you think you would be the only one trying to make a plan here?” Sara asked, not bothering to look up at him.

Rip stood there for a moment, staring at her with a baffled expression before muttered. “Where do we start Captain?”

“You tell me Captain,” She muttered, looking up at him with her stunning sky blue eyes.

His heart started beating faster.

* * *  
He wasn’t the only one who felt that way, wasn’t the only one taken by surprise…  
* * *

She groaned as she felt someone prodding her. Then she caught wind of the greatest smell on earth and suddenly the world was worth experiencing again. She opened her eyes again, lifting her head up, off her folded arms. Faintly she realized she’d fallen asleep in the library, her version of Rip’s office, but more importantly Rip Hunter was standing there with a cup of coffee and this slightly smug smile on his face.

“You should take better care of yourself Captain,” He told her teasingly.

How many times had she been the one to find him in his office, passed out on his desk with an empty glass of scotch just out of reach of his fingertips? And she’d poke his shoulder and wake him up slowly and he’d look up at her with tired eyes lined with dark circles. She’d drag him to bed for a few hours of sleep, or maybe make him tea. And now?

She looked up at him, eyes wide as she sensed the faint traces of something almost… flirtatious in the way he said it. You should take better care of yourself Captain. Rip, flirtatious?

She took the cup of coffee from his hand and sipped it. Her eyes closed, marveling in the wonderful taste of the roasted beans. Coffee was the only thing that made mornings worth living. The League taught you to be alert in the mornings, but that didn’t mean you suddenly loved them.

“You made it just the way I like it,” She whispered in amazement. Hazelnut blend coffee with chocolate creamer and a hint of sugar. It was perfect. Just right. The only people who ever got it right was her dad and Nyssa. Everyone else got it wrong somehow. But Rip. “Nobody ever get’s it just right.”

Rip smiled widely with pride and turned, walking away. Sara leaned back in her chair, a faint smile on her face.

It was a really special thing to just know how someone liked their coffee or tea. She knew how he liked his tea. Earl grey, loose leaf if he had the time. Tea bag if he didn’t. Tea pot if it was loose leaf, mug if it wasn’t. Always black. Knowing something like that about a person, that was personal. You didn’t just know that about a person unless you were close to them. Sara smiled a little wider, marveling at that.

* * *  
Everything just slowly fell into place…  
* * *

They were taking a leave in New York. It was November, 2017, and this time they were managing not to completely ruin the city. Mick had gone off to bar, dragging Ray along. Jax was staying behind, choosing to take the time to facetime his mom. He missed her a lot of course. Stein was doing the same with Lily and Clarissa.

Rip and Sara?

They had run off, and with no destination in mind. They needed a much deserved break from the other Legends. Being Co-captains of the Waverider was a lot of work, and they needed some time alone. 

Sara laughed as they boarded the subway, feeling as though the coast was finally clear. They were finally free, away. They could go anywhere now. Rip smiled and grabbed hold of a support bar, leaning into Sara as the subway started to push forward.

“Where to now Captain Lance?” Rip asked her.

“It’s just Sara now,” She corrected, smiling widely, excitedly. “We are nowhere near the Waverider. I think we can forget the Captain thing.”

Rip quirked a smile and looked away. “Where does one go in New York City?” He asked.

Sara hummed. “Well, we could do the tourist thing, or we could do the local thing,” She suggested.

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the local thing?” He asked.

“Visit coffee shops and grab lunch and wander around the shops like we’re running errands,” Sara answered casually, staring out the windows as the subway tunnels blurred by.

Rip considered it for a moment, picturing it. Walking around with Sara Lance by his side. Sipping coffee, or tea in his case, in some quaint coffee shop and getting dinner or seeing a movie like they were just regular residents. 

“Let’s start with a coffee shop,” He suggested. “Could go for a cup of tea.”

Sara smiled. “We’re heading for Queens, and I know a decent place. It’s a bit hipster though.”

Rip turned to her for a moment, eyebrows knitting together. “’Hipster?’” He repeated in confusion.

Laughter bubbled in her throat. “It’s better seen up close than explained,” She mumbled, looking away.

The coffee shop in question wasn’t what he expected. He expected something brightly lit, modern and streamlined like the coffee shop in Central City   
the Legends all seemed to frequent. This coffee shop was small, cluttered, colorful, and dimly lit. Jazz music played in the background, almost unnoticeable. Something about it was so calm and relaxing and Rip felt every muscle in his back just ease up.

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “This okay?” She asked.

He looked at her. This was perfect.

* * *  
Piece by…  
* * *

They spent a lot of late nights sitting in his office, occasionally having a drink as they talked strategies. So far the time pirates had remained quiet and that troubled them both. And sometimes he’d just stop and look up at her while she was staring down at the plans and just marvel at the way she thought. She thought in ways he never did. She brought things to the table strategy wise he never could. She challenged him when she thought the plan was wrong, and as frustrating as that was sometimes, it always worked out in the end, always made the plan better. 

When he chose her for the team, he had no idea how valuable she would be as a strategist, and now he realized how lucky he was. How lucky he was to have Sara in his life.

He had nothing but the upmost respect for her.

Sometimes she’d look up at him and think of how happy she was that he was back. How happy she was that they were Co-captains. Because she needed this. Needed this balance. Needed this friendship. Needed him. Because he understood her, and she understood him.

* * *  
Piece…  
* * *

Some nights they retired to the library for some coffee and tea, when they were exhausted but they needed a drink. The “needing a drink” part had a hitch in the plan in that Rip was trying very hard to back off the alcohol. Not completely, but mostly. And she wanted to help with that. So coffee and tea in the library. They sat on the couch, talked about everything and nothing. Told stories, shared jokes and exchanged sarcastic banter. One time Rip fell asleep on the couch, so Sara grabbed her heavy comforter from her room and dragged it into the library and curled up with him on the couch, his head resting on one arm of the couch, and her head on the other. Rip woke up smiling despite the discomfort in his neck. He twisted, looking over at Sara. She had such a peaceful look on her face, and he couldn’t dare bring himself to disturb her. Not yet. So he waited for a little while longer, until he was almost certain other members of the Waverider were awake. Then he got up and made coffee and tea. 

* * *  
And then it just hit him…  
* * *

Those nights became tradition. To the point that they couldn’t just go to bed without having a coffee and tea conversation in the library. Then one night, the night, Rip liked to call it, they decided to take the conversation to his room instead of the library. It had been suggested because the rest of the team had a habit of interrupting them for whatever reason suited them at the time, and Rip and Sara just wanted one peaceful conversation to themselves.

Sara took it upon herself to settle on Rip’s bed. Make herself comfy like she belonged there. Rip sat on the chair, pouring himself a cup of tea. He’d chosen to make loose leaf tea this time. Tonight they were talking about the mission with Hex and the dwarf star alloy and Rip was very sorry he missed it. Sara hummed thoughtfully, promising that at some point she’d make it her mission to find some frivolous reason to pop in on Hex and call it a “mission” so Rip could see him again.

“I’d like that very much,” Rip agreed. He took a sip of his tea.

Sara set her cup down and got comfy on his bed, disrupting one of the many, many blankets to curl up under. She really looked like she belonged there and…

It just hit him.

She really looked like she belonged there.

With him.

In his arms.

Curled up together.

Sleeping together. Not sexually, but innocently sleeping together.

But he couldn’t deny that that thought wasn’t also running through his mind.

Images flickering through his mind, ideas of what might happen.

Bollocks!

When the hell did this happen?

Sara Lance!

Because bloody hell was this not a good idea. They were Co-captains on the Waverider, engaging in dangerous missions, and this could go so   
horribly wrong.

And it could go so wonderfully right.

He just…

Sara Lance.

He needed to think about that.

* * *  
And he wasn’t the only one…  
* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three of TimeCanaryWeek! Leave a comment or some kudos if you liked it, I love all of my supporters, happy TimeCanaryWeek!


	4. Strikhedonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strikhedonia: (n) the joy of being able to say “to hell with it”

After an hour of pacing on the jump ship on the Waverider, because the jump ship was the last place anyone would look for him, Rip was forced to admit that pacing wasn’t helping. Neither was the sleep deprivation, the excessive caffeine or the fact that he’d been avoiding Sara for the last day or so. Which could not have gone unnoticed by this point. He couldn’t help it though, every time he looked her in the eye his chest seized nervously and he suddenly felt at loss for words, or as if there were too many words he wanted to say and they would all come spilling out if he didn’t shut his mouth and leave right then.

This had and hadn’t been a problem before.

This had been a problem before in the sense that he had always been aware, on some level, of the effect that Sara had on him. It was impossible not to notice how a simple smile or a light hearted, comforting conversation with her could change his entire mood. He was incredibly aware that he cared for her before.

This hadn’t been a problem before in the sense that he hadn’t come to realize that one blindingly obvious detail.

He was in love with Sara.

Ridiculously in love with Sara.

He couldn’t go a day, or even more than an hour or two, without thinking about her, no matter how far the distance between him and her. Southland, New Zealand was filled with thoughts of her. Prague, Berlin, Beijing, and Amsterdam and everywhere else he had briefly visited for a time while trying to settle on a place to resettle the mess in his head had been filled with thoughts with her.

It went so much further than just thinking about her all the time.

He ached for her.

Physically ached. There was always this itch in his fingers when her fingers were within his reach. Always this warm stirring in his chest when he brewed her coffee for her. Always this restlessness when he didn’t know where she was during a mission and she could be anywhere. Always this instinct to constantly look over his shoulder at her, to check that she was right behind him, that he didn’t have with anyone else.

Of course he had always been aware of these things on some level but now it was buzzing constantly in the back of his mind as he overanalyzed everything. Everything hyper-focused. He’d been so good. He’d tried so hard to suppress those feelings, to not let himself get attached to Sara. He had learned his lesson. Attachment and love, they never ended well with him. He knew what it was like to lose the people that meant the entire world to you and that wasn’t something he could go through again.

Sara Lance.

Sara Lance had died twice already for God’s sake! And once by his hand. Oh goddammit!

The panic attack set back in and the pacing in the jump ship aboard the Waverider stopped. Rip stopped, fingers running through his hair for a moment as he very vividly relived the moment she died by his hand. Remembered every gasp as he squeezed his fingers around her throat, using her as a damn bargaining chip for a bloody piece of driftwood. He heard the moment her neck snapped. 

Rip collapsed on his knees, gasping for air.

“Captain, she’s still alive and well. She’s sitting in the galley having dinner with the others right now. She’s not going anywhere.” Gideon spoke, a gentleness in her tone. “You can go see her for yourself when you’re calmer.”

Rip nodded, gasping for air still as he cleared out the traumatic memory from his mind. The images flickered away.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Gideon,” Rip whispered. 

“Might I suggest talking to Captain Lance,” Gideon suggested, the hint of something pushy, almost sarcastic in her tone.

Rip blinked for a moment and looked up at the ceiling, raising an eyebrow. “Has Sara been training you in the ways of sarcasm while I’ve been away Gideon?” He asked.

“You were away for five months, she had time.” Gideon replied.

Rip laughed at that, finding himself smiling at that. He leaned against the wall of the jump ship, sitting down as he looked up at the ceiling. “It suits you,” He mumbled.

“Thank you Captain,” She replied, just a touch of pride gracing her tone.

Rip sighed.

He was in love with Sara.

Whole heartedly in love with her, and there was no going back. In all honesty, he didn’t think there was really any part of him that wanted to go back. 

Loving her had made his life so much infinitely better.

No going back. Only moving forward.

The matter was, how?

* * *

If anyone asked, it was Mick that stole the bottle of rum from Rip’s study. Sara wasn’t owning up to kidnapping the dusty, neglected bottle in the corner of his study. When Rip said he was going to back off drinking, he had really meant it. Off the top of her head, she recalled only a few times she’d seen him drink, and it had only ever been one or two for the night, and then he would stop.

Sara suspected it had something to do with Doomworld. She might have found an empty rum bottle on the floor of the galley when she found the cake.

She was honestly very proud of him.

But tonight, it was her making questionable decisions. Rum, a glass, and hiding out in her room.

She poured herself a second glass and sat back on her soft, cushy chair, mulling over her thoughts.

Rip was avoiding her.

Subtle, he was not.

She closed her eyes, because she could still see it.

Could still remember the moment she grabbed the fluffy grey blanket and pulled it over her to keep her warm and looked over at him and he was just staring at her, mouth a touch open, eyes wide with this light of absolute happiness in them. It was that same expression he got when he described the sunrises he’d stay up all night for in Southland, New Zealand, but that starry eyed, wistful look of wonder wasn’t directed at a sunrise. It was directed at her.

It just made everything finally sink in.

Because it wasn’t just her that felt this way.

Rip felt it too.

This.

This warm tenderness in her chest she got when she looked at him and that soft smile that would slowly spread across her face when it was just the two of them. It was this light she felt spread in her eyes when she saw him walk in the room and she saw that same light in his. The way his shoulders would lift when he noticed her, and a gentle smile would pull at his lips. He’d seek her out, sit next to her instead of the others. All things that, on his part, could be seen as something a close friend did.

And then that night, that night that he looked at her like she was one of those sunrises he cherished so much on the nights he couldn’t sleep. It made her heart beat a little faster and she could feel this smile spread across her face against her face because Rip Hunter was looking at her with such adoration and love in his eyes. And of course she’d noticed the way he’d look at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but this time it was so different. This time she could really see it, hold this moment close, and enjoy it.

His cheeks burned red with embarrassment at being caught, and she wanted to brush her cool fingers across his hot cheeks as she kissed him very soundly.

And that moment was gone all too soon and Sara was left alone on the bed, wishing she could drag his eyes back to hers and stare back into the moss green. Because he had some truly stunning eyes.

Rip Hunter was in love with her. It was obvious and clear as the light of day to her now.

There was one problem.

Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t act on it.

It couldn’t be her.

She couldn’t be the one to initiate.

Rip had been through too much. He’d lost his wife and child and that was a wound you didn’t just heal. Moving past that, that was a personal decision you made on your own, and she couldn’t be the one to push him into that. Not if he wasn’t ready. She needed to wait. She wanted to wait, and she would. Rip was worth waiting for.

* * *

Rip sat in his office, his back going stiff as he leaned over his desk. The cup of tea by his side had gone cold a long time ago. It didn’t matter much to him. He couldn’t see the point of drinking it if he wasn’t enjoying it with Sara. He sighed, staring down at that photo of Miranda and Jonas. Good God they were everything to him. They were his entire world, but now there was this little bit of extra space in that world for one more person, and that person was Sara.

Sara, who made everything in the world around him a little lighter, a little softer, whenever he saw her.

And he was afraid that world he had built around Miranda and Jonas would collapse around her too.

He still had nightmares of finding Miranda and Jonas, holding their broken bodies in his arms as the chaos of battle rained down on what was once their home. He was afraid of the day when he might find Sara, left lifeless in the aftermath of a senseless battle, eyes staring up at the sky, empty. Afraid to hold her and realize she’d never look at him again. Never turn those sky blue eyes back at him and smile that wide, cheek splitting grin she gave him when she teased him. 

He’d built an entire life for Miranda and Jonas, and he’d tried his best to keep them safe, and he had failed.

Sara Lance was someone you couldn’t even try to keep safe. She ran head first into danger, heart beating fast, with a grin of determination on her face because that was when she felt alive. That was when she was in her purest form, every bit the warrior she was meant to be. Rip couldn’t hide her away from the world and protect her in the sense that he had with his wife and son. He could only fight by her side and watch her back, protect her from danger in the battle.

And he would be damned if he ever let anything ever happen to Sara.

Because he loved her. Loved her more than anything.

Rip leaned back in his desk chair, closing his eyes for a moment to indulge himself in the idea of what life might be like if he did tell her how he felt. What would their life be like if they were together?

He imagined more nights in the library, but if they fell asleep on the couch again he would wake up with her in his arms under the comforter. He imagined that those late nights they spent talking might be retired to one bedroom instead of two separate bedrooms. They’d curl up and fall asleep together in Rip’s bed, and maybe argue about one of them stealing the blankets. Instead of waking to their nightmares alone, because Rip knew Sara had nightmares of her own, they’d wake up to someone who could comfort them in those terrifying moments. He wondered if eventually she’d just give up and move into the Captain’s quarters with him altogether, and they’d be Co-captain’s in more senses than one.

And all this was idealistic, he knew. A collection of perfect moments with no idea of what rocky moments might arise in the future. He knew from personal experience that no relationship was perfect, and that any relationship with Sara would have as many rocks as it had sparks and that was perfectly fine with him. It was Sara.

Rip sighed, rubbing his hands across his face tiredly. The question was, how did Sara feel?

Despite what the team thought about him, he was actually very good at reading people. He had to be in his line of work, given all the undercover work he had to do over the years.

He saw the differences in her smiles. Sara’s smiles with him were different, and while he had trouble deciphering the meaning behind those differences, because Sara was still Sara and very difficult to read sometimes, he knew those differences meant something significant. He saw the way Sara always turned to him, always looked at him, when a member of the team did something crazy and insane. She always wanted to see his reaction, see what he made of the situation, because there was something about his reaction Sara found more interesting that the others.  
He remembered the way Sara looked at him when he was Phil. The pain of him standing in front of her but not being himself was getting to her. Because she had lost him, and she finally had him back, and yet she didn’t.

He remembered the way Sara hugged him the instant he walked off the jump ship one month ago, after five months of not seeing him. For the rest of his life Rip knew he’d never forget that hug, because suddenly the universe felt grounded again and it felt like he really was home, and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she felt something similar.

He was sure Sara Lance felt something for him. If it was love, he wasn’t sure. She felt something though. Something.

Was it enough to act on?

Rip sighed, slumping a little further into his chair, eyes still closed.

It wasn’t until he heard the knock that he realized he was falling asleep in his office.

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing this anymore,” She commented.

Rip opened his eyes as a pot of tea was set down in front of him. Not just any pot, his favorite pot of tea. It was checkered with wild designs on it in a sort of Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland sort of artistic style, it was the very same one they used when they made cake and there was something about it that just pulled at Rip.

Rip looked up at Sara. The light of the office combined with his tired mind was casting a fiery gold halo across her blond hair, stray strands turned white. She was standing there in a loose white sweater, her hair a messy curtain around her perfectly freckled face and to him she was just absolutely perfect.

There was Sara, standing there with that gentle smile of concern on her face.

To hell with it.

He was in love with Sara. Madly in love with Sara.

And he was going to tell her how he felt. He needed to.

Rip stood up suddenly. “Sara, there’s something I want to say,” He spoke up, heart hammering in his chest.

Her sky blue eyes widened and she nodded with uncertainty, ready to listen.

The Waverider jolted and shook so hard Rip fell to the ground, his cheek and jaw hitting the floor first, followed by his elbows. He groaned in pain,  
but the first thought on his mind was Sara.

He looked up as she lifted her head from the floor, locks of blonde hair falling away from her face as she looked around in surprise, eyes wide. That was a violent time-quake. She turned to Rip.

“Gideon?” She called, worry lacing her tone.

“It seems the Time Pirates have found a new place to strike, and this time the year 43 AD, modern day Great Britain,” Gideon explained.

“The Roman invasion,” Rip muttered in understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strikhedonia: (n) the joy of being able to say “to hell with it”
> 
> It's not actually a real word. It's more of an internet word, something someone came up with and posted, and of course it spread like wild fire because it was popular, but it's not in any dictionary I could find. However, "To Hell with it" is generally Rip Hunter's life motto at times, so I included it.
> 
> It's day four of TimeCanaryWeek, for which this was written. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	5. Ephemeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ephemeral: (adj) lasting for a very short time

Stopping the Time Pirates meant stopping them from setting bombs across all of Great Britain, specifically nuclear bombs with the purpose of detonating when the Roman army invaded. They found the Pirates in a muddy field in the middle of nowhere. To the north of the field was a small, shallow ravine surrounded on two sides by thick forests. That was also the direction where the Pirates had landed their ship. The Legends landed to the west, where there was level ground but still some cover from subtle hills.

All-out battle had broken out as the Legends attacked the Time Pirates. Rip found himself on the outskirts of the battle, picking Pirates off with expert marksmanship with his gun. Ray was flying through the air, firing at enemies from an easy vantage point while Mick used his heat-gun and punched out the Pirates. Sara.

Sara was taking half of them down single-handedly. But they were grouping up and singling her out. Rip moved forward, joining the fray because he would always, always have Sara’s back. He fired at anyone who dared get to close to the woman he loved.

Sara slammed her boe staff into the jaw of one Pirate, the heel of her boot kicking into the sternum of the Pirate behind her simultaneously, sending them both down. Her elbow connected with the head of another, the fist of the same arm changing direction and swinging into eye of another. She was a wave of terror.

Rip fired shots off, weaving through the battle until he was by her side, back to back with her.

She turned her head slightly to him, nodding her acknowledgement of thanks. They fought side by side.

Until Rip saw Captain Warshaw, who lead the group of Time Pirates move towards them, a gun in his hand. His dark, narrowed eyes were trained on Sara. Rip’s eyes widened in alarm, his heart seizing in panic.

“Sara!” He shouted, pushing her behind him as his hand raised, grabbing the Pirate Captain’s wrist, lifting the gun over his head. The shot fired off, missing Rip by only a few inches, but Rip felt something sharp in his side.

Sara ducked in front of Rip, throwing a knife into the Captain’s shooting shoulder. Captain Warshaw grunted, crouching slightly as he gripped the knife in his shoulder, glaring at Sara. Neither noticed the red knife Captain Warshaw was holding slip from his fingers. He tapped his hand to his left wrist, touched a metal teleportation device, disappearing with a flickering flash.

Rip turned to Sara, his hands flying to rest on her cheeks as he looked her over for any injury, instinct taking over for a moment. They took heaving breaths, the heat of battle taking the better of them. Her sky blue eyes stared at him, wide and strangely scared. Not from the battle or from nearly getting injured herself, but from him nearly getting injured. And he had very nearly gotten shot. And he desperately needed her to know what he was going to say before that time quake.

He pulled her in, kissing her with a sense of urgency, needing her to know just how much he loved her. She returned the kiss immediately, her hands resting at his sides for a moment before the chaos of the fight forced them to separate. Only a moment, just a moment that ended far too soon but it was all worth it if there could be more moments like that.

Then Rip saw the Captain of the Time Pirates standing beside one of the nukes, where he’d teleported. He grabbed a nuke, holding it in his good arm. With a shaking, weary arm, he touched his teleportation device. He was teleported just outside the battle, a mere forty feet away. It didn’t have much of a distance. Enough to escape immediate danger, but not enough to get far.

 

Sara stopped for a moment before she reentered the battle, feeling something hot and sticky on her fingers. She looked down, seeing them coated in red that wasn’t there before.

“Rip?” She whispered, still remembering what it was like to hold onto him as she kissed him only a moment ago. “Rip!”

She turned, watching as he ran off, chasing after the Pirate Captain.

“Rip!” She shouted, calling after him.

She started to run after him before she was cut off by three annoyingly loyal Pirates.

 

Rip followed the Captain through the ravine, following him as best as his could, but Rip was starting to feel dizzy. It seemed Captain Warshaw was slowing too, because finally he too gave up on running and turned to Rip, gun raised with his left arm. Rip held up his own, ready to shoot. The pirate laughed.

“Captain Rip Hunter.” He greeted, an air of smugness in his tone.

“Captain Harry Warshaw, wasn’t it? Former Time Master?” Rip greeted, raising an eyebrow.

“Former,” Warshaw pointed out. “And you’re one to talk.”

Rip quirked a smile. “Fair point,” He agreed. “Out of curiosity, why nuke all of Great Britain with the knowledge that destroying an entire world power would, for all intents and purposes, also nuke the majority of history as we know it?”

Warshaw cracked a smile. “I got bored,” He replied, shrugging his good arm. It clearly still caused him pain, judging by the grimace crossing his face. 

“Won’t matter now, I’ve got what I really came for.”

Rip frowned, confusion knitting his eyebrows together as he wondered what the Pirate Captain really came for. A gun shot sounded through the ravine, echoing as it bounced off the trees. Rip’s eyes widened as the pain struck through his abdomen.

“Can’t go around marauding all of time with you running amuck,” Warshaw stated, smirking. “Goodbye Captain Hunter.”

Rip looked down at the darkening stain on his inner jacket, the pain tearing through his body in earthquakes. His legs gave out and he fell, his right shoulder hitting the ground first. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the cloudy sky where dark clouds loomed above.

He thought back to Sara, and that kiss. For a second he was back in that short, perfect moment, and he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've determined I'm a terrible person for writing this chapter... (I'm really sorry feelings-baby, I'm really, really sorry) [feelings-baby is a fellow tumblr user and friend who has been following all my fanfiction very closely and has been very supportive]
> 
> This is probably the shortest chapter I have written for this, the second shortest I think being the first chapter. Tomorrow's chapter might very well be the longest though. Tomorrow's chapter is also my favorite out of all eleven. 
> 
> (No, Rip doesn't die, promise. I don't do character death. Except that one time with Oliver, but it was one time and it wasn't even this account. Rip won't die.)


	6. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petrichor: (n) the pleasant, earthy smell after rain

The damp, earthy smell was soothing somehow. Stemming from a distant memory of something he couldn’t quite place. It brought the strangest traces of happiness with it. The cup of tea was still hot in his hand, and she was still complaining about wanting to stay longer but leaving the team alone for too long was always dangerous. So they pried themselves away from the tiny coffee shop in Queens, walked into the rain and…

The rain was catching itself in strands of her blonde hair, adorning her hair like gems on silk. Her nose wrinkled for a moment as she ducked back under the awning, complaining about the rain. He laughed at her, something light he was no longer used to, and she gave him a glare that hinted at something playful. Rain didn’t faze him. East London, he reminded her. It was just mist. She crossed her arms, huffed. She still didn’t like it. So he shrugged off his long coat and pulled it around her shoulders, and her mouth opened slightly in shock because Rip Hunter never went anywhere without his coat. She pulled it on immediately, an eager smile playing her lips, and the sight of her smiling like that was all worth it.  
And he had to admit, she looked rather good in his coat.

And they just walked down the street, the rain misting down on them, brushing against their shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close and savoring this rare moment of alone and it was just so…

Quiet.

The cars were sailing past, their headlights shining like white fire on the watery street, and the noise of pedestrian traffic was all around them but she was by his side, laughing at something he said that he didn’t even mean to be a joke and he just…  
He wanted to kiss her. Very much he wanted to kiss her. To turn back and go back to that tiny coffee shop and stay there for a little while longer and never let this moment end and…

Rip opened his eyes, staring up at the gloomy sky above. The clouds loomed above, threatening more rain. He twisted, trying to sit up before the shooting pain in his left side had him lying back down. He breathed in fast, shallow breaths, pain echoing through his body from moving. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, he touching his fingers to his side and pulled them back, examining them. Coated in mud, stained in blood. His blood.

Where was he?

A shallow ravine? 

An empty, mud ridden, shallow ravine?

Not a soul remained. And he had to wonder why he was all alone out here, surrounded by trees and nothing else. All alone and bleeding out. Where were the others? How had he even gotten out here?

He remembered the sounds of swords clashing and a mind that was and wasn’t his. He remembered the muddy pit she’d found him in, lying on his back as he awaited death. He remembered her standing over him. Sara. Coated in mud and splattered with blood he wasn’t sure could be hers. He had waited for her to finally finish him off and she saved him instead. Camelot. The day Sara Lance risked everything to save him from himself.

The fingers of Rip’s hand fluttered back to his left side, touching the wound he couldn’t remember getting. He prodded it, gasping in pain as he tried to figure out what type of wound it was. Bullet wound. Shot then. Better than sliced through with a sword, but the end result was still a muddy grave in the middle of nowhere.

And there was no Sara to save him now.

Sara.

The rain began to fall, rain drops freckling his cheeks slowly. Rip closed his eyes, breathing weakly.

For a moment he wasn’t there, waiting for his death in the cold mud, alone in the empty field. For a moment he was back at the coffee shop, sitting at the table in the corner with Sara, the golden incandescent lighting of the vintage lightbulbs above their heads lighting up her golden hair and connecting her freckles in complicated constellations. She was laughing, smiling softly as she sipped her coffee, something sweet and chocolatey that he couldn’t bring himself to so much as taste, let alone order. She turned to him, her lips forming his name.

“Rip?”

The happy, wistful look in her eyes didn’t match the worried, urgent tone of her voice.

“Rip!”

He opened his eyes and looked up at his angel in black. Her face was marked in soot and her hair was a ragged mess and she was so stunningly beautiful. He looked up at her, a dazed hint of a smile on his lips before they closed again.

“Rip, stay with me!” Sara ordered. She turned to Mick. “We need to get him back to the Waverider. We need Gideon.”

“Not sure we’ll be able to get him back to her in time,” Mick commented lowly.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Sara growled lowly, her eyes pinned on Rip. “We’re not losing Rip. Not now. Not ever.”

“No, v’course not,” Rip mumbled, struggling to open his eyes.

“Hold on Rip, we’re going to get you some help,” Sara promised.

“Help,” Rip murmured, a sleepy exhaustion weighing him down.

“Stay with me,” Sara insisted. Rip nodded, looking up at her blue eyes which weren’t quite sky blue now. They were something muddled and greyer today, and still just as beautiful. He held her gaze for a moment, but keeping his eyes open was so hard.

He was faintly aware that someone picked him up, faintly aware that he was being carried, but his eyes were closing.

She called his name again, more urgently, her icy cold hand on his cheek, trying to bring him back to her. But he was back in the coffee shop, the rain peppering the windows outside and quiet jazz music playing in the background. Just him and her. Nobody else. Her sky blue eyes were grey when she looked out at the gloomy skies outside, but they were blue and gold flecked when she looked back at him. She smiled again, leaning back in her chair, her posture aggressively poor. He bit back a smirk at it and commented on the music, mentioning that he didn’t recognize it. And he recognized a lot of Jazz music. She teased him that it must be uncomfortable for him, not knowing something.

“I’m getting used to that phenomena Miss Lance, of not knowing something,” He replied jokingly. “After all, there are many things I find I don’t know about you.”

He raised an eyebrow and she let out a breathless laugh, smiling at that. 

“Please just stay with me Rip.”

Something in her tone was so urgent and so out of place in the calm little coffee house in the middle of nowhere, lost in the sea of Queens.

He stared at her. “I’m not leaving.” He promised her, his voice a whisper as he leaned forward, his hand brushing over hers in comfort. She gave him a weak smile. 

“Just stay with me,” She whispered, her eyes watering.

He opened his eyes. The coffee shop was torn away and replaced with the blinding white nothingness of the med-bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was by far my favorite chapter to write in the entire series. It was the first chapter actually, and the chapter I wrote everything around. I hope you enjoyed at least some of it. Please leave a comment, even if it's to yell at me for scaring you about Rip.
> 
> This is the second to last day of TimeCanaryWeek, but this story has another five chapters to go, and it will continue to be posted on a daily basis. So I hope you enjoy the last few days of TimeCanaryWeek and have a good weekend. See you tomorrow.


	7. Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oblivion: (n) the state of being unaware of what is happening around you

There was a rush of something. Rush of people, rush of panic, rush of energy as something happened and that something was Rip. He opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the blinding white ceiling of the medbay in disorientated confusion. He looked around, trying to make sense of the rush of movement around him as Ray and Sara moved about the medbay, trying to help him.

“He’s got a bullet in his left side, right below his left ribs, and a stab wound near his left hip. Gideon can take care of both, but first we need to remove the bullet.” Ray commented lowly.

“I’m on it,” Sara mumbled. 

Ray grabbed her arm. “Wait, do you have any experience removing bullets?” He asked Sara lowly.

“I’ve pulled three bullets out of my own body, and I’ve pulled two out of Oliver and one out of Felicity. I think I’m qualified enough,” Sara pointed out quickly, pulling out of his grasp as she approached his side.

Rip looked up at her, eyes cloudy with confusion. “Sara?” He mumbled.

She looked down at him, relief flooding her blue eyes. So happy to see him awake, and then so immensely worried.

“Rip, I need to pull the bullet out of your side, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch, so I’m going to have Gideon give you some morphine. Is that okay?” She asked.

Rip nodded weakly. He wasn’t a stranger to pulling bullets out of his own body. He’d done it twice before. It wasn’t something one wanted to be sober for.

“Administering the morphine now,” Gideon announced.

For a moment Rip felt nothing, not even the pain of the bullet. There was a word for that. Shock.

There was a word for shock. Two words actually. Not good.

Then a wave of heat poured in and something flooded Rip’s brain and everything went wavy and fuzzy. He was floating, everything pulling away, everything distant. He felt something tickling in his throat. Faintly he heard her voice, long and distant in the fog. He wondered in Gideon was being too generous in her administration of the morphine but perhaps that was merciful.

A sharp stab of pain burned through his left side and Rip moaned in pain, twisting to his right to escape it. A set of heated hands pushed him down, holding him still. Warning words were spoken, no threat to them, but concern obvious. They didn’t make much sense and all Rip was certain of was the pain and the fact that nothing else felt solid. But the pain was becoming less severe as he floated off, as the heavy heat overwhelmed him and flooded his mind.

There was a word for this.

This feeling of nothingness. This sense of drifting.

Oblivion.

Something about it felt so peaceful.

So calm and free.

He was just floating, safe and away from the pain.

His mind a warm fuzz, a soft blur.

For a while it was just that. Just the soft, warm floating air. He could feel something pulling at his skin around his ribs and his hip but he didn’t pay much attention.

Something cool brushed across his hand, resting there for a moment. “Gideon’s done repairing the bullet and stab wounds, so you should be fine, but I’m going to stay, stay right here with you.”

Rip let out a deep exhale, relaxing at that. Come what will, but even Oblivion could not take Sara away from him.

Slowly, weakly, Rip turned his head towards her. He cracked his eyes open, barely, to look at her, really look at her. To look at her eyes and see something there he wasn’t sure existed. See that word he didn’t dare give Sara because it meant things, things that could not be undone.

Her lips pulled slightly, an almost frown she was trying to hide because she was Sara and she hid her emotions. “You scared me,” She whispered, eyes watering.

“I scared you?” He whispered, entirely unaware of the way his words slurred together.

“Rip, I watched you run off after that time pirate, and when I tried to find you I found you in a ditch, bleeding out after getting shot and stabbed. I thought you were dead. I thought I found you too late. I-I-” She trailed off, voice cracking. She looked down and the hand resting over his pulled away for a moment, shaking slightly. “After that kiss, I just…”

She turned to him, and he swore he could see her eyes watering. He tried to raise arm to comfort her but with his limbs so heavy it was difficult and all he accomplished was letting it fall back across his chest. Sara took that hand in hers again, gripping it tightly.

She looked down and then blinked, looking up at him. “Rip, I can’t lose you, not again. Not ever.” She whispered.

Rip gave a weak smile of understanding. “Come here,” He whispered, weakly pulling her in.

Sara leaned forward, hugging him loosely, gently, as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His arm wrapped over her back, holding her there for a long moment.

“Please promise me I won’t ever lose you,” Sara whispered into his neck.

Rip’s green eyes drifted up to the too-bright fluorescents of the med-bay. “You won’t lose me,” He whispered softly, pressing his lips to her halo of hair for a brief moment. “I promise.”

Sara nodded against his neck and pulled away. Her eyes drifted to his torso. “Rip, when did you get stabbed?” She asked him, slowly, cautiously.  
Rip’s tired mind struggled to thing back to the fight. “Before I chased Warshaw,” He mumbled tiredly. His eyebrows furrowed. He remembered the gunshot that missed, and the stab of pain when it happened. “When he didn’t shoot me I think.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “When you stopped him from shooting me,” She clarified, shocked.

“Hmm,” Rip mumbled sleepily, nodding weakly.

“You walked into a knife to protect me,” Sara whispered, something dangerously between horror, anger, shock, and awe in her tone. “Why would you do that?”

Rip looked up at her for a moment, eyes fluttering tiredly. “He was going to shoot you,” He mumbled, feeling it should be obvious. His moss green eyes looked into hers, a sense of seriousness in them. “Sara, I told you. You are very important to me.”

Sara sat back for a moment, staring at him for a moment. She remembered 1960 and her telling Ras that, but he’d never said it to her directly. He seemed to sense her confusion.

“Sara, you are very important to me,” He repeated, taking his hand from hers to rest it on her shoulder, with something in his eyes that needed to communicate just how much he really cared for her.

Sara looked down for a moment. He was on morphine, she reminded herself. He could barely keep his eyes open. He’d never confess this under normal circumstances.

Rip looked up at her and realized she doubted him somehow. Believed he wasn’t telling her the truth, or that it wasn’t the right truth. He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was something he would have to better explain. He wasn’t certain.

He was certain that the sleepy feeling of the morphine not quite out of his system had began to set back in. He blinked heavily, wishing he could stay awake, stay awake and talk to Sara but he needed his rest. Sara smiled softly in understanding and took Rip’s hand in hers.

“Get some rest, I’ll still be here.”

“Hmm,” Rip mumbled.

He drifted off, slowly floating down somewhere deep below, under something warm and soft. Drifting slowly, never stopping until finally he settled somewhere comfortable and still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Note, get ready:
> 
> It's the last day of TimeCanaryWeek but there's still four more chapters to go, and those will be posted soon. I hope you have enjoyed TimeCanaryWeek, enjoyed the influx of new fanfiction and other content.
> 
> This chapter was probably the hardest to write from a mental/emotional standpoint. It brought back some unpleasant memories from over the last ten years of very serious illnesses that required me to be hospitalized and heavily medicated with morphine for pain, as well as have surgery, or narrowly avoid having surgery. Notice the very, very detailed description of what it's like being on morphine? There's a reason it's so descriptive. So it wasn't fun, ironically after following my favorite chapter in the series.
> 
> The next chapter might not be posted on time, for two reasons: 1) yesterday I woke up sick, really sick. My dad's been fighting this bug for three weeks and after four days of insomnia/not sleeping much my body crashed and I got very sick very quickly. 2) I actually haven't started chapter eight, which I meant to yesterday but it never happened. So chapter eight may be delayed a day or two? I'm not sure.
> 
> Please leave a comment or some kudos if you will, they make my day better, make me smile and I could really go for something to perk up my day.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for TimeCanaryWeek, which is a big thing going on in Tumblr, so I highly recommend checking it out if you ship TimeCanary. Please leave me comments, I love praise (lets be honest, who doesn't?) and praise makes my day. Have a happy TimeCanaryWeek,


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